


Come Here Often? (The Chocolate Habanero Stout Remix)

by KaiserNoire



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Background Hance, Gen, M/M, Renaissance Faires, Voltron is a bar, background Hunk/Lance - Freeform, brewery au, pidge also makes an appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 08:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19247827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiserNoire/pseuds/KaiserNoire
Summary: A tipsy Shiro comes across beautiful craft beer brew-er Keith at a renaissance faire. When Shiro gets wind that the brewery that Keith co-owns starts having themed nights Shiro insist to Matt that they go. And, of course, they have to go to every single limited edition brew days. Luckily Matt likes craft brews.





	Come Here Often? (The Chocolate Habanero Stout Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tootsonnewts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tootsonnewts/gifts).
  * Inspired by [keith's special flavahhh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12892890) by [tootsonnewts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tootsonnewts/pseuds/tootsonnewts). 



> AH ASHELY!!! My dear! I literally screamed when I found out that I got to remix your work, and I basically knew right away what I wanted to do. I hope you enjoy this silly thing!

The temperature, for once, had been accurate, and it caused Shiro to rethink his decision to wear as many layers as he had. Granted, he should have anticipated that the day’s festivities were going to be in direct sunlight, with very little likelihood of tree coverage. A failure on his part, unfortunately. 

“Did you want to get some food?” Shiro asked Matt as they got up from their seats. A small smattering of wooden benches and hay bales sat circling a small stage. The fowl presentation that they had just watched had been quieting down, the people in attendance slowly departed to other activities. 

Matt looked over Shiro’s shoulder and smirked. “I have a better idea.” And with a quick pat to Shiro’s leather clad back, Matt stood up and walked away. 

 

_____

 

Shiro had shrugged when Matt mentioned that he wanted to go to a local beer festival for his birthday. Alcohol festivals had become pretty popular in their area, so much so that wine, beer, and hard cider events littered Shiro’s invites whenever he decided to check his Facebook. It seemed that as the temperature outside increased, so did the amount of tasty alcohol events. Which Shiro didn’t mind, the few that he had been to had been fun. But the novelty started to wear off after the fifth year that he lived in his semi-hipster metropolitan area. It took something truly interesting for him to consider attending.

But at Shiro’s semi disinterest, a scheming glint graced Matt’s features. 

Shiro squinted at his friend. “What are you planning?”

“Do you trust me?”

“You didn’t answer my question, Matt.”

“You didn’t answer mine either.”

Shiro squinted harder and noticed the soft ding on Matt’s phone that was typical when a payment successfully processed from internet purchases. “Matt,” Shiro asked. “Am I going to enjoy what you just bought.” It had been more statement than question. 

_____

 

“Were you planning on enjoying this delectable beverage now or later.”

“Now, please!” Matt chirped.

“Would you like me to open it for you?”

“Oooooooh, _yes, please._ ”

Shiro blinked at the exchange that had just happened in front of him. 

About two weeks prior Matt had purchased weekend tickets to a renaissance festival, and not just any renaissance festival, oh no, that would have been too easy. No, Matthew Holt, for his 30th birthday decided to plan a full weekend getaway for him and his best friend Shiro to one of the largest renaissance faires on their coast. It had taken them almost four hours to drive there, but looking around at the mostly outdoor as-close-to-historic-as-possible buildings and structures around them, Shiro had to admit that this had been a fantastic idea. 

The abundance of costumed faire-staff and other faire-goers, coupled with all the livestock and fowl really made it a completely immersive experience. Shiro had gone to one or two ren faires when he had been a teen, but nothing to this extreme. Especially nothing where he had felt out of place in his purple cotton T-shirt and black shorts.

Needless to say, Shiro didn’t need much convincing when him and Matt had walked into the faire and a leather doublet in a deep purple caught his eye. The stiff cap sleeves of the top just barely cleared his shouldered when he tried it on, which would make it a bit tight if he were to flex to strongly, but the fit otherwise had been a dream. The doublet layered over itself on the front, left over right, and closed down the side with fancy silver metal hooks that were more likely not period appropriate at all. 

 

But the wide sweep of the split tails of the back of the doublet made Shiro’s insides melt from want, so whether it was period appropriate or not didn’t matter. He needed this very fancy leather vest. 

The shop keeper had walked over at that time and offered a complimentary black belt that had a very large and ornate silver ring meant for tying the belt around his waist. Shiro had to admit, the belt really pulled everything together, and Shiro thought nothing of it as he passed his credit card to the shop staff. The cheer from Matt made Shiro smile as he admired the intricate details in the mirror. 

That had been about an hour ago. The current found them lined up outside a little wooden hut. 

“Matt?” Shiro tried. 

“Yes?”

“Are you really planning on drinking all of that while we’re here?” Shiro asked.

Matt whipped his head to the side to face his friend, who stood behind him in line. “As a matter of fact, yes. Yes, I am.” And Matt reached his hand out to grab the full sized wine bottle from the costumed individual tucked inside the little wooden hut. The billowy sleeve of the server’s top brushed against the sill of the To-Go window of one of the many quaint buildings scattered across the multi-acre faire ground. 

Shiro leaned forward and looked around the inside of the hut. There had been wooden crates upon wooden crates; all of them, he assumed, carried precious liquid cargo. Beyond them sat a small indoor seating area and a small fire pit with a beautifully cooked meat roast spinning on it. Shiro assumed that it had been a real roast and not decorative. 

“And you, weary traveler?” Came the voice of the bar employee. “What can I get you?”

“Hmm.” And Shiro blinked as he thought about his options. He had purchased his leather doublet a few hours prior, and now Shiro almost started to regret his decision as he felt himself start to get too warm for comfort. He had no intention of dying from heat stroke. He needed something cold to drink. A few seconds passed and then he shrugged. “Do you have anything chilled?” 

A chilled beverage was a chilled beverage. 

Right?

After he tried a few different samples, Shiro ended up walking away from the food hut with a drink in one hand and a turkey leg in the other. 

“And here you were criticizing _me_ for _my_ alcohol purchase,” Matt said with a light laugh. The pair strolled along the gravel path and attempted to find a shaded place to eat their food. 

“Hey, I did the math and this made the most sense,” Shiro said and then grunted as he pointed with the turkey leg. “There, near the jousting.”

Matt nodded as he whispered “Suuuure,” under his breath, and then pivoted in the direction that Shiro pointed. “So, Takashi Shirogane, are you ready to join me in Very Tipsy Birthday Shenanigans?”

Shiro laughed as he took a deep drink from the perfectly chilled small-batch moscato bottle in his hand. The bottle had already started to sweat and a drop hit his dark cotton shorts. “I was fine with just settling for loudly cheering for the horses, but give me half this bottle and we can definitely discuss shenanigans.”

“Shenanigans with a capital ‘S?’” Matt asked as he took a bite of the gigantic sausage in the paper boat in his hands, the act rustled the side of sauerkraut.

With a shrug of his shoulders and a smirk on his lips Shiro responded, “It’s your birthday weekend.”

______

It turned out that both men ended up forgetting about their Shenanigans with a Capital “S.” After they finished off their food and about half of their bottles of wine, the midday jousting had just finished up. Shiro had been correct when he first said that he was planning on cheering for the horses, because that had been exactly what he did. Matt had laughed and joined in cheering for the horses. Besides the horses had been doing a lot of work, what with carrying the riders who, in most cases, wore very heavy metal armor. 

After they stumbled away from their shaded seats, they made a bee-line to a few of the shops. The first one just so happened to be a corset maker.

“Why a corset?” Shiro asked as he took a sip from his wine bottle, eyes drifted to the booth next door that sold leather accessories and holsters that you could attach to your belt. “We’re going there next, by the way,” he added as an afterthought. 

“Have you seen how tiny my waist is, man?” Matt said as he found the section of partial-coverage corsets. 

Shiro laughed good naturedly. “I don’t pay attention to your waist.” 

“Exactly! But if it was tinier, then you would!”

“Is this how you normally flirt when you are tipsy, Mathematics Holt? Because if it is, no wonder you’re single.”

Matt cackled. “You’re single too!”

“Yeah, but I choose to be single.”

Matt gave Shiro a once over. “You know? You’re basically Pidge’s co-worker’s type.”

Shiro made a noncommittal hum. 

“He normally likes the big bara style guys like you,” Matt continued as he pulled a deep hunter green corset off the rack. Shiro sputtered around the mouth of his wine bottle. “Does this shade of green look good with my hair?”

_____

 

After a near hour escapade, the duo walked away from the stalls that housed the corsetier and the nearby belt accessories vender.

Shiro placed the now empty bottle in the black and silver wine bottle holster that he had just purchased. “Good purchase,” he mumbled as he patted the smooth leather at his hip. 

“I’m gonna take you to him,” Matt said as he grabbed Shiro by the bicep and changed their direction. 

“Wha?” Shiro beautifully articulated as he allowed himself to be pulled by Matt. “But llamas, Matthew.”

Tipsy Shiro could have sworn that they agreed to swing by the petting zoo portion of the faire after they had finished with this round of shopping.

“The spicy one,” Matt said with a nod. “I’m gonna take you to the spicy one: Kenneth.” 

Shiro pouted. “Matt, why spicy? I don’t like spicy food.”

“Not food. Kenneth.”

“Huh?”

“Well, I mean, I guess you _could_ eat him,” and Matt chuckled. “I bet he would let you suck him off. You’re his type.”

“Who ‘him?’”

“That ‘him,’” Matt responded as he grabbed Shiro’s face with his hands and turned it so that Shiro looked over the crowd. 

Shiro’s eyes drifted and finally landed on a raven haired man. The man had his back to Shiro, tending to a few faire-goers, passing out plastic cups of beer in exchange for money. A matte black van had been parked in a vender’s stall. Scrawled across the side had been the words _Voltron Brewery_ in white letters, and a side compartment door had been pulled open to reveal multiple beer taps that had been built into the side of the van. 

“Oh,” Shiro said and drew out the syllable. And then the raven haired man turned, tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, and Shiro forgot how to breathe. “Him good.”

Matt sagely nodded and ended up moving his hands to nod Shiro’s head as well. “I told you.”

Shiro swatted Matt’s hands away from his face as he stumbled forward. “I’m gonna go say ‘hi.’”

“Be careful,” came Matt’s voice from behind Shiro. “Him spicy!”

_____

There had been a few times in Shiro’s life where he really should have thought things through a little better. This had been one of those times. Granted, thinking back on the situation, Shiro would just claim that he was more drunk than tipsy at this point, hadn’t had a lot of food or water, and, probably the most important, that Keith had been so goddamn pretty that what was he going to do? Say no? Unlikely. Not even intoxicated Shiro backed down from a challenge. And what Matt had said sounded awfully like a challenge. It hadn’t been. But Shiro wasn’t going to admit that. 

As Shiro crossed the stretch of grass and gravel to where a few other merchant stalls had been set up, he took in the sight of the other man. Kenneth? Had that been what Matt had said his name had been? He had been way too soft, too beautiful and graceful, to be a Kenneth. He didn’t really look like a Kenneth, but that was OK.

Shiro shrugged. Shiro would call him whatever he wanted to be called. Especially if those things involved less clothes than what they both had been wearing. Speaking of clothing...

Shiro dragged his eyes down the lithe frame of the other man. A dark grey billowy top with a deep red leather doublet graced Beautiful Raven Haired Man’s shoulders, and Shiro had been taken back by how effortlessly elegant the other looked even while he pushed up his long sleeves so that they didn’t get liquid on them. 

Someone taller, more than likely a fellow Voltron Brewery associate, placed a large hand on Kenneth’s shoulder and handed him a worn-in leather apron with the Voltron Brewery logo on the front. Kenneth accepted it graciously, and a small smile tugged at his lips as he nodded to the hulking man who stood beside him. The other looked familiar, what with his dark brown hair that had been pulled out of his eyes with a orange bandana. Hunk? Had that been his name? Shiro had been too tipsy to remember. 

Besides, there had been more important matters at hand. Namely, that _smile_. The smile that had spread across the Raven Haired Man’s face had nearly knocked Shiro off his feet. He needed to say hi.

In fact.

“Hi,” Shiro said as soon as he got within earshot of the beer truck.

“Hey! Welcome to _Voltron Brewery To-Go_. Do you know what you want?” 

Shiro blinked. That voice hadn’t sounded like it came from the man he wanted to talk to. Shiro blinked again and looked down, and there standing in a blue, grey, and rust-orange ensemble had been a lanky man with messy brown hair. Not the man that Shiro had expected at all. 

After Shiro tried to say a few different words at the same time, he breathed and then asked what they recommended. The man in front of him started going on about a few different flavor profiles that they had on tap, explaining that each one hailed from a different part of the region, and ended with “But it looks like you might want something crisp and refreshing, right?”

Shiro nodded. 

In truth he hadn’t really been paying attention to the exchange, rather he had been looking over the lanky man’s shoulder to stare at the man in the billowy red top. 

“I’m Lancey Lance,” said the Voltron associate who had been helping him.

“Hi, I’m Shiro,” Shiro said as he pulled his eyes away from the man with the black hair. Almost atomically Shiro gave Lance a dazzling smile. 

“Shiro, huh? You seem familiar. Are you local, Shiro?”

“Kinda. I’m from Central.”

“Central City? That’s where we’re from! You should upgrade your beer to include a metal stein. If you bring the stein back to our brewery then you get one dollar off each visit.”

Shiro agreed easily, and before long he held in his hands a very large metal stein with the words _Voltron Brewery_ embedded on the intricate surface. He brought the rim to his lips and took a sniff of the liquid, “So, what’s his flavor profile?” The words left his mouth faster than his brain could process it, and a blush crept across the scar on his nose. “ _The beer_ , I mean. What’s the beer’s flavor profile?” He hoped against all hope that Lance didn’t call him out on his slip up. 

He had not been that lucky. 

Not at all. 

“His?” Lance started and then followed where Shiro’s gaze had previously been. “ _Keith_? You’re talking about _Keith_ aren’t you? _Oh my god_ , you’re talking about Keith.”

Shiro’s shaky “No, of course not. I don’t know a ‘Keith,’” didn’t detour Lance at all. Even though his statement had been true. Hadn’t Matt said that the guy’s name had been Kenneth? Yeah? Not Keith? Never mind that. 

“I should grab him,” Lance said as he popped up on his tiptoes, looking over the other Voltron staff that populated the small stall. “Shit, where’d he go?”

Shiro breathed a sigh of relief. 

“That’s a good idea though,” Lance continued. His arms had been crossed over his own leather _Voltron Brewery_ apron, hip cocked out to the side as he leaned on what looked like a whisky barrel with _VB_ embossed on the top. 

Shiro took a sip of the draft in his hand, mainly as a way to stall. “What’s a good idea?”

“Specialty brews with flavor profiles based off of each employee. Mine would be called the _Lancey Lance_ , of course.”

“Of course,” Shiro agreed right before he took another sip. Now seemed like a good time to escape. “Well, thank you for the beer.” And he pivoted his body to telegraph that he intended to walk away now. “I’ll just—”

“Oh! Not so fast!” Lance called. Drat. “You should follow us on social media. This specialty brew idea of yours is fantastic, and I would hate for you to miss out on,” and Lance paused for a millisecond, “ _tasting the Keith_.”

Shiro sputtered so hard that he choked on the mouthful of liquid in his mouth. 

_____

 

As it turned out, Shiro got a bit too wasted, and too embarrassed, that day to remember to follow though with Lance’s request to follow _Voltron’s_ social. But with Matt being related to one of the co-founders, he really hadn’t needed to in the first place. 

A few months later Pidge messaged Shiro a Facebook invite link. In proud white letters across the digital promotional flyer on the Facebook page read the announcement of the First Ever Voltron Craft Brews Nights. Shiro looked down the list of dates as he clicked “Attending” on every single Thursday’s event. 

Right as Shiro clicked the “Attending” to the last event he became hyper aware of the theme for that particular Thursday. 

Shiro gulped. 

He didn’t expect this. 

He _definitely_ did _not_ expect this.

Well, at least he had three Thursdays to hopefully work up the nerve to talk to Keith before that last Thursday. 

_____

When Lance had originally mentioned something about speciality brews, Shiro’s intoxicated brain had thought that maybe that they were going to have all of the flavors available at one time, but that hadn’t been what had happened. According to the Facebook event pages, every Thursday night _Voltron Brewery_ would debut a limited run of a beer inspired by a single employee. 

So, that meant that, with Matt being Pidge’s older brother and with Shiro being their long time family friend, if Shiro wanted to be a good supportive friend he basically had to attend each Thursday’s events. Logically, he knew that he didn’t _have to_ and that both Pidge and Matt would completely understand. But Shiro would know. 

Besides, Shiro liked Pidge and the company that she co-owned, and wanted to support them in anyway that he could.

And so, with their limited edition ren fair metal steins in tow, Shiro and Matt made their appearances at _Voltron Brewery_ every Thursday. 

Week One had been the Lancey Lance, a blueberry IPA that had been tart and sweet, and strong enough to make even a big guy like Shiro tipsy after just one and a half refills of his stein. As Shiro had finished his second refill he just nearly walked right up to Keith, who had his hair pulled back into a ponytail and looked just “absolutely dreamy,” as Shiro had whispered to Matt. Lance had taken that moment to pop up and had asked who had been “absolutely dreamy.” Shiro turned red and Matt laughed his ass off. 

Week Two, the Pidgeon, had been a wheat beer with hints of grapefruit and mint, with a very satisfying smooth finish. Matt had three and by the fourth he had been hugging Pidge to his chest, loudly proclaiming how proud of her he had been, and how “This is exactly what Katie deserves!!” at the top of his lungs. Needless to say, Shiro promised a snickering Pidge that he would keep an eye on Matt’s intake for the rest of the night. Being on Matt Duty meant that Shiro didn’t have an opportunity to talk to Keith. 

Week Three, the Hunk, had been a pineapple cider, and if Shiro had been perfectly honest that had been his favorite out of the previous weeks. The cider had been fresh and clean, with just a bit of a kick, and Shiro ended up loving it so much that he ended up chugging about five very full glasses of it. Hunk had been making his rounds and drifted near Shiro and Matt’s table with some beautifully platted snacks. Shiro had asked Hunk what the thought process behind his flavor had been, to which Lance chimed in “It feels self explanatory, man,” and then gave Hunk a kiss on the cheek and disappeared about as quickly as he arrived. 

Then almost too quickly Week Four had been upon Shiro. Keith’s week. Keith’s Thursday. Shiro hadn’t been able to talk to Keith in the weeks prior, and honesty had barely seen much of the other man. 

Shiro walked into _Voltron_ with not only his stein, but also Matt and Lotor, in tow. Shiro’s hope had been that Lotor would provide enough of a distraction to Matt that Shiro would be able to sneak away and talk to Keith. 

The three commandeered the same table that Matt and Shiro had been using for the previous Thursday’s just as a glass hitting metal met Shiro’s ears. It hadn’t been a shattering sound, so that had been positive. 

Shiro looked in search of the sound and there standing behind the bar, looking especially frustrated, had been Keith. He had a dish rag slung over on shoulder, facial features pinched together as a customer walked away from the bar.

Idly Shiro wondered if that glass sound that he had heard had anything to do with Keith’s disposition. 

Before Shiro ruminated too far into the subject, he heard a door open and out walked Hunk. The two talked for a bit after Hunk had placed the crate of glasses down, and Shiro tired to keep his chuckle to himself when Keith widely gesticulated at the chalk board behind the bar. 

There, in fancy red and white script listed the reason for Keith’s upset.

**Today’s Signature Brew:**

**KEITH’S SPECIAL FLAVAHHH**

**a chocolate habanero stout**

Well, at least that’s what Shiro guessed because, honestly, if he had been in the same position he probably would have been at least mildly peeved. At that moment Keith looked like he would have liked to have been anywhere else.

Shiro didn’t mean to be eavesdropping, but he caught the tail end of the conversion. 

“Well,” Hunk said, “you know Lance. Besides, maybe he meant it like, Keith’s Special F-Lava! Y’know, like lava. Because it’s spicy. And you’re spicy... and the beer is spicy like.. you?”

Shiro chuckled to himself as he rose from his seat. Matt had called Keith spicy on many occasions. Maybe it had been a running joke between them all. From the little that he knew about Keith it definitely seemed to fit. 

With a shake of his head, and with a plan in place, Shiro grabbed his stein and told his friends that he would be right back. 

The wolf-whistle aimed at him hadn’t been missed, and Shiro gave Matt a two-finger salute as he walked the short distance to the back bar where Keith and Hunk stood. 

Shiro cleared his throat as he leaned against the counter. “Um, excuse me.”

He watched in quiet amusement as Hunk and Keith both looked up at him. As Keith’s eyes widened, they roamed over the width of Shiro’s shoulders. Keith’s jaw tightened as he tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, and my _god_ that simple action was just about enough to undo Shiro by itself. 

When Shiro had first seen Keith at the renaissance faire, the other man had been wearing a long sleeve top, a pretty sheer top yes, but it had still masked the well defined muscles in Keith’s arms and chest, which had now become apparent to Shiro as he watched Keith absentmindedly mess with his hair. 

It had been a good sign though. A sign that maybe Keith would be interested in at least chatting for a bit. 

Shiro watched Keith’s eyes continue their slow crawl down his body, and normally Shiro didn’t necessarily like to make too much of a fuss about his prosthetic, but he flexed his arms and Shiro could have sworn that he heard Keith swallow. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Shiro tried to hide the slight amusement in his voice, but it didn’t really work, “I just wanted to order one of the specials.”

Keith kept staring, mouth a bit agape, and Shiro couldn’t help but to preen a bit. Matt had been right about one thing: at least physically Shiro seemed to be Keith’s type. 

Shiro heard Hunk snort softly and grabbed the metal stein that Shiro had placed on the stainless steel countertop. “Sure thing, buddy!”

As soon as Shiro started drumming his fingers on the counter, Keith seemed to knock himself out of the daze he had been in and grabbed the rag off his shoulder. 

“So,” Shiro started as he watched Keith attempt to wipe off the counter, “this week’s flavor is yours, huh?” Well, at least that sentence sounded a whole lot more calm than Shiro felt. 

At a near comical speed Keith snapped his head up and dropped the rag. “How did you know?!”

Shiro laughed deep in his throat. It sounded semi-self deprecating to his own ears, but he hoped that Keith hadn’t picked up on it. No way in hell he had planned on telling Keith that he had been fawning over him at the renaissance festival and every single Thursday speciality brew night, so when Shiro had pointed out the name tag pinned to Keith’s leather apron, Shiro felt like he had dodged a bullet. At least for now.

They exchanged a few words, and Keith took his credit card so Shiro could start a tab. And then with a pat on Keith’s back and a “Looks like you’re killing it here,” Hunk made his exit to go help Pidge. 

Shiro cleared his throat again and then took a sip of the draft in his hands. “Well, I’m Shiro. I’m not wearing a name tag, but in the interest of sharing...”

OK, not so bad. Not so bad, Shiro. Keeping it together. Excellent. 

But then Keith sniffed and the way that his nose moved had been just so fucking precious that Shiro tired not to cry at how much like a bunny the other man looked. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Shiro.” And then Keith seemed to add almost as an afterthought, “Don’t ask me what makes the beer special. I can’t have your disappearance on my conscience.”

Shiro had paused slightly, beer halfway to his mouth. And then he laughed as he said that there had probably been a story behind what Keith had just said, but that he wouldn’t ask if Keith didn’t want him to. 

Keith seemed to contemplate this for a moment and then continued. “Well, if you must know, when you name something the way Lance named that dumb-ass beer, people suddenly get _ideas_.”

“Ideas,” Shiro repeated and then took a quick drink. 

“They ask _questions_.”

“Questions.”

“Yes,” Keith nearly hissed, as if the thought had personally offended him and his dog. And then the other man leaned forward toward Shiro. “And do you know how many times it takes for you to get tired of people asking you what makes the flavor special while they wiggle their eyebrows like absolute assholes before it gets old, Shiro?”

Shiro leaned in even farther. “I have a sneaky suspicion that it’s once.”

“It’s once!” Keith nearly howled as he threw his arms up.

Shiro felt an amused smirk play across his face as he asked why the naming scheme had varied off for Keith’s.

Keith’s response had been a mumbled, “Lance’s sole purpose on this Earth is to ruin my life.”

Shiro couldn’t help the laugh the bubbled from his lips. From the very limited interactions that he had with Lance that seemed to line up exactly. 

“Well,” Shiro drawled and with a sudden burst of adrenaline said, “not to be crass, but I can’t help but wonder why yours didn’t get a cute name too. I mean, you are.” And then he took a sip of his beer as he added, “Cute, I mean. You’re cute.” He looked into his stein as he mumbled, “I should probably stop talking.”

When Shiro hadn’t heard a reaction he hazarded a look up and locked eyes with Keith. Keith’s wide and absolutely gorgeous eyes. 

Keith opened his mouth and out tumbled, “You’re very muscular.”

That. 

That had not been what Shiro had expected. And he laughed, deep and jovial, and wiped a small tear that had collected in his eye. As he looked up he smiled at Keith and Shiro could have sworn that Keith made a whine in the back of his throat. 

Oh. 

Well that made Shiro’s next line a bit easier. 

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now. But here I am.”

“Here you are.”

“Talking to the drink himself,” and Shiro hid behind another dazzling smile. 

The “I hate you,” that Keith had said held zero heat, but, if Shiro had been reading it right, held a lot of want. 

And so he tired to be a bit more daring. 

“Can you hate me but also give me your phone number?”

Keith scoffed. “Of course I can.” And then dug in one of the pockets of his apron. 

“Good,” Shiro said as he held a dumb smile behind another sip of beer. “This is really good, by the way.”

Shiro noticed Keith’s eyes narrow, almost like he could read what Shiro had just prepared to say next. Shiro wiggled his eyebrows in hope of distracting Keith. 

“So,” Shiro drawled out the word. “What makes the flavor so special?”

Keith laughed as he threw his crumbled up slip of paper at Shiro’s face.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/kaisernoire) | [Website](Http://www.kaisernoire.com)


End file.
